


Arkham Boys Make Do

by smileyfacegauges



Category: Batman - Fandom, Batman: Arkham (Video Games), Batman: Arkham - All Media Types
Genre: M/M, Older Man/Younger Man, PWP, Transgender, Transman, Use of the word 'whore', uhhhhhhhhhhhhhh beats me mate
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-02-23
Updated: 2018-02-23
Packaged: 2019-03-23 01:16:55
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,102
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13776600
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/smileyfacegauges/pseuds/smileyfacegauges
Summary: Jonathan takes advantage of a lockdown at Arkham. one-shot, porn without plot.





	Arkham Boys Make Do

The grounds were crawling the guards. Lockdown of Arkham Island had been initiated and, as ever, it came at an inopportune time. High security patients – inmates – were being treated to a rare dalliance outside. There were snipers and baton-happy overseers of course, but this was one of those good behavior rewards that came so infrequently that they were ignored even more than usual.

Naturally, all good things must come to a halting end, and it was no thanks to nobody’s friend, the Joker.

Edward had been tucked away in a secret, decrepit hiding place in the northwest corner of Arkham North. He wasn’t supposed to be there at all, and so that was only half the fun of it in the first place. Unfortunately for him and his companion, when the lockdown sirens blared and the gruff voices began yelling orders, their chance at truly staying hidden became significantly reduced. They had to hope that there were lazier teammates about today, men who wouldn’t feel like completing such a full sweep.

For their own safety, they resolved to squeeze into a space in the crumbling foundation of the building, and wait. As it was, it was hardly big enough for the two of them. They’d discovered before the best way to make use of it, and it meant that one man must lay atop the other. Due to his pride, Edward made it clear that he was going to take that position.

So there they were, two bodies in a Bat-made hole in the wall; a cross section of a grave. Jonathan stared distastefully past Edward’s shoulder at the cold, damp brick and cracked mortar. Their little Arkham date of planning escape tactics and future heists was interrupted. Atop him, Edward muttered and grumbled, huffing hot breath by his ear.

Jonathan’s gaze drifted to the copper head hanging so close to his. They weren’t allowed so much privacy. Though Edward was livid and tense over him, the aged doctor was, as always, remarkably calm. Annoyed, yes, but upon careful reconsideration, willing to swing the night in his favor.

His dirty, soft shoes scraped on wet dirt and cement as he began to draw his knees further apart. The neurotic young man was already situated between his legs, and neither of them had any qualms about it. Now, though, he spread his legs wider, and Edward settled more easily into his lean body with a quick, indignant glare. It was met with the heavy, neutral stare of Jonathan. Edward scoffed at him.

“What are you doing?” he hissed, indignation spiking as he felt hands take him by the waist. His lip curled to berate him, words that were immediately silenced by the upward, lazy roll of Jonathan’s hips. Edward’s eyes bugged, and he choked on his breath.

“Jonathan, are you _serious!_ ” Edward made to push himself up over Jonathan, forgetting the low ceiling, could only partially extend his arms before he collided with jagged brick. He grimaced, and, blaming his partner in one whining groan, he shot him a disapproving glare from a height that was not good enough to get his indignation fully across. He was forced down onto Jonathan’s chest, a frown twisting his mouth.

“Don’t do this now. We could be found out in any minute!” He hated how little Jonathan spoke, and hated even more how he was being regarded under a cool, nonchalant gaze. Edward’s cheeks flushed with heat as friction ground languidly into his crotch. Ooh, how that old man played dirty. They never got enough time together, much less for a quick tug, and their planning had overshadowed any amorous intentions. He clenched his jaw, determined to prove to Jonathan that his attempts were unappreciated, and oh how badly he lied.

Edward hated the fact that Jonathan knew it, too.

He sniffed and glanced out into the brush. He had to consider their chances; what was the percentage of their success of something quick, before they were spotted and reprimanded and delivered to solitary? Could they make it to the old passages before the next crew made their sweep? What if— and the line of thought cut short. Edward drew in a sharp gasp, one that was exhaled on a staggered breath as Jonathan’s hand grasped at him through his coarse orange pants.

The old man was in no mood for Edward’s overthinking. He flared his fingers and gathered what he could, squeezing and digging his palm upward into the hardening bulge. He met calculating, tentatively hungry eyes with challenging blues, partially amused by Edward’s distress. Of course this was seen as a slight upon him, as Jonathan knew it would. Sometimes, it was all too easy to manipulate the great E. Nygma.

“You’re the worst, Jon,” he chided, allowing the groping but stubbornly refusing to give in just yet. “You are the absolute worst.”

“Oh, I’m sure I am,” the psychiatrist drawled, hushed and gravelly in the way that he knew Edward liked. If it wasn’t so dark in their nook, he’s confident he’d see how dilated his partner’s pupils were. The Georgia accent turned out to be a favorite of Edward’s. He was playing him like putty, and Edward knew it, and now chose not to mind it at all. Jonathan granted him a faint smile. “You done complaining?”

“Oh, shut up,” he retorted, and pretended to look a lot more resigned than he was as he loosened the drawstring at the waistband and began to shove it down past his hips. Beneath him, Jonathan chuckled a husky laugh, and lifted his hips as he, too, dealt with his pants. It was awkward to writhe one leg out of its confines, and he lost his slip on shoe in the process. The ground was cold and wet on his heel and he paid it no mind, drawing his knees back to his chest.

Above him, Edward was hiding his eagerness. Jonathan reached and took his partner’s cock underhand and watched him moan soundlessly as he stroked him. They didn’t have time for much foreplay. In their cramped space, the exposure of Jonathan’s pussy came with a musky odor that only spurred Edward on. So much, that he batted his partner’s hand away, and took it upon himself to pinch the base of his cock in his fingers and guide the head into the soft, wet folds of Jonathan’s cunt. He coaxed them apart, smirking distractedly at how Jonathan’s lips parted and his eyes fell shut.

As Edward pushed into Jonathan, the good doctor’s chest heaved with a shuddering exhale, and his hands slid up his lover’s warm sides. Edward himself restrained a groan. Jonathan was more than just wet – he was drenched. The poor old man must’ve been working himself up all day. He felt thick around his cock, and the smell of his arousal was strong between them. As he began to pump his hips, Jonathan’s face contorted into a pleasured frown, and Edward grinned.

He could only spread his knees so far, but he could manage. Edward descended upon Jonathan’s neck with a series of gruff kisses, delighting in the soft, pitched grunts that he elicited from him. His hips collided dully, firmly into Jonathan’s, the sound of his efforts mixing well with the slick plunge his cock made in his partner’s cunt.

Jonathan’s legs strained. He wanted to spread them wider, push his hips to meet Edward’s thrusts. His feet bounced in the air and his body rocked with the force of them. He pushed his hands beneath Edward’s shirt and roamed over his back, digging his cut nails into his skin. Edward was a good lover, made better by their romantic connection. The swell of his cock fit perfectly inside him, and the snapping thrusts of his hips were angled to tease his enlarged clit. Every thud creates pulses around Edward’s dick, and squeezes him tighter.

A low, breathy moan was exhaled into Edward’s hair, and Jonathan’s hands grasped at the jut of his shoulderblades. “Eddie.. oh Eddie, that’s it sweetheart,” he whispered encouragingly, snaking his long fingers around the back of his neck from beneath the orange shirt. “C’mon honey, you can fuck me harder n’ that.”

Spurred on by his lover’s guttural words, Edward drove his hips harder, earning an audible gasp and whimpering moan from Jonathan. His accent drove him up the wall. Even better, he was slurring his words now, meaning only that the fucking he was getting was better than he wanted Edward to know. Not so sly, eh old dog?

Jonathan’s pussy closed and relaxed as Edward’s cock pounded into him. The tension was beginning to build, a pleasurable bloat within his cunt that was made worse with every slap of Edward’s pelvis on his erect clit. He turns his head to his young lover’s ear, and holds his head in place by the hand at his neck. “Fuck me, Edward,” he demands at a growl. “Fuck me. I’m so goddamn close.”

Edward’s response is a wobbly, dumb noise from the bottom of his throat. Wasn’t he fucking him hard enough already? Never the one to disappoint, he slams as hard as he can muster into Jonathan, stubbornly keeping his own orgasm at bay. Jonathan is getting tighter, and his legs are beginning to shake at his sides. He feels the body beneath him coil in tension, and the Southern lilt of his words get frantic in his ear. Oh, how he loved to hit all the right spots with Doctor Crane.

It’s a miracle that Edward didn’t fall right out of Jonathan at any point. The man is sopping wet, and the impending orgasm will only make things worse. “Eddie, Eddie, don’t stop sweetheart, don’t—oh, oh lord above, ah--!”

Edward doesn’t think he’ll ever get used to it. When Jonathan cums, it’s hell on earth keeping his pace, as his ejaculate comes thick and sloppy. He’s forced to pump hard and shallow into his partner, fucking him through the ride of his orgasm. Jonathan’s body pushes at him from within, clenching his cock and then swallowing it up. It becomes too much to bear, and besides: he won anyhow. Jonathan came first. Little victories always mattered for Edward Nygma.

When he starts to cum, he moans shakily into Jonathan’s soft neck, and his thrusts begin to weaken. Jonathan’s arms hold him in their loving embrace, fingers petting the hair feathered at the back of his head. He tries to catch his breath and roll with the waves of his orgasm, when Jonathan purrs into his ear: “Keep fuckin’ me, Eddie. Don’t stop. Push it all in deep for me, sweetheart.”

Damn this old fucker and his demands. Edward was always happy to oblige; his darling lover always knew what they both wanted. He rolls his hips, grunting from the overstimulation and the effort of every rough push, purposefully slamming against Jonathan’s swollen clit. Jonathan groans at each impact, peppered with hushed words of “yes” and “fuck, Eddie” as he’s run to the ground in their shared climax.

Edward and Jonathan both are left panting, Edward moreso, gasping for breath. He shudders and fans moist, humid air on his partner’s neck, and closes his eyes to the caresses Jonathan’s fingers leave. Their chests rise and fall out of rhythm. Jonathan takes a deeper inhale, and the Riddler’s name graces the air as his chest contracts. He gets a childlike grunt in response.

“Mm. You dirty old whore.” He mutters into his neck.

“An’ what, Edward? Keep complaining, and you can kiss these rendezvous goodbye.”

“Oh, you don’t have to be so fatalist,” Edward grumbles, and slowly pushes himself up enough to slide out of Jonathan, and also make an effort to pull his pants back up. He frowns at the messy thickness that sticks to Jonathan’s reddened pussy and smears by the insides of his thighs. “Jesus. You were pent up, huh?”

“Not as bad as you,” Jonathan retorts, stiffly reaching to correct his own wardrobe.

The lockdown is still in progress when they figure they’re in the clear. Edward has to help Jonathan get his bearings, and grins smugly at the insinuation as to why. It wasn’t his old age, oh no. Jonathan chides him on the way back to the wing of Arkham where they are meant to be held, and just before they part to turn themselves in for inmate count, the Riddler and the Scarecrow share a brief kiss of thanks to the others’ love.

No amount of security and danger could keep them from each other for long.


End file.
